[Written on December 3, 2008] We’re into week 10, or 11, depending on how you count. Seriously, the whole “How many weeks along are you” question is the most difficult part of this whole pregnancy thing (for me at least. Hi Honey!) First off, they start counting from the start of an event that I don’t really care to discuss all that much, so there is an entire two week span (approximately) that you count as being pregnant without ever really being pregnant. I think it's some female conspiracy to make their job seem harder.
But, feel free to consume all the bad and illicit substances you desire during the first two weeks. Hooray!
Ok, so you find out that you’re pregnant and try to figure out when that day was so they can add 40 weeks to it and give you a due date. Have a specific due date in mind around 9 months from now. Do a little calendar counting of your own, give one little while lie, and it can be yours. (Or actually stumble into it with honesty like in our case – Brett’s birthday is our due date. He’s rooting…)
In any case, you end up with a conversation that goes something like this:
Doctor: We normally can’t tell that until week 12.
Couple: We’re in week 12.
Doctor: [Looking at calendar] No, you’re in week 11 right now.
Couple: We’ve completed 11 full weeks, putting us firmly in the week 12 range, haven’t we? (Depending on how the pregnancy is going and what symptoms the woman has been experiencing, she may become a little panicked at this point to find the promised relief from said symptoms all the books have been discussing has just been pushed out another seven days).
Doctor: Yes, you have completed 11 full weeks, putting you in week 11. (At this point, the doctor will probably look at you and wonder if you are indeed qualified to raise a child, because seriously, you have 20 fingers and toes, how hard can it be to count to 11…)
Couple: Ok, right now we are in the 21st century, but we have yet to complete 21 full centuries. We are 20 full centuries and a few odd years. Right? So 11 weeks and 2 days is the 12th week of pregnancy.
Doctor: Oh, I see how you could think that, but that’s not how we count around here. [Begins prescribing crazy pills for the neurotic couple.]
Couple: [Woman glaring at husband for making promises that things would be getting better and just now finding out they won’t]
Not that I’m bitter or anything…
Honestly, I think Rhiannon has been doing much better than I expected. Yesterday was the best day she’s had in a while, and if there was a trophy for getting all the way through a day without taking a nap, she would be receiving one. Unfortunately, in the adult world, that type of achievement is rarely recognized.
We’ll see how the next few weeks go, but she has never thrown up and only felt really nauseous a handful of times. Easy for me to say. There was one morning when a feeble call came from upstairs for a piece of toast to calm some butterflies. We haven’t had chicken breasts since a dinner of chicken and rice a couple weeks ago turned out to be completely unappetizing. Other than the immediate “Oh no, what are we going to eat if not chicken?!?!” reaction, we don’t have the house packed with pickles and ice cream or vinegar chips, or anything strange like that.
In fact, Rhiannon’s sweet tooth had kind of declined over the past month. Chocolate is still a yes of course I’ll have some, and thank you very much, type of food, but other things like cake and ice cream have been kind of take it or leave it. Well, discounting the one evening she finished off the better part of a quart of chocolate chip mint ice cream and then couldn’t bear to look at the remaining bit the following evening.
Last night, she put on a pair of jeans, looked in a mirror, and asked me if they made her butt look bigger. Any guy in a relationship knows that this question is basically a no-win situation, so I answered with all the sarcasm I could, “Honey, no pair of jeans in the world could ever make a butt as fabulous as yours look bad.”
I ducked the pillow that soon came my way. The jeans were from college, and I pointed out the fact that hey, college jeans while 10 weeks pregnant should be a good thing, right? Her take was that she must have been fatter than she thought in college.
Aren’t pregnant women suppose to be happy and glowing when they aren’t throwing up?